A Kiss is Just a Kiss
by tilleygirl
Summary: What can a kiss tell us about a friendship?  An evolving relationship traced through a series of kisses.  Spoilers for season 3.
1. A Kiss Between Friends

**Can the development of a relationship be followed through a kiss? Oh, I think so. Many thanks to RJ Lupins Kat for providing the inspiration that drew this all together and to Bujyo for her wonderful editing and encouragement !**

* * *

A Kiss is just a Kiss

_**kiss **_v. to touch with the lips as a sign of affection, greeting, etc. -n. a touching with the lips.

_**affection **_n. a tender feeling towards another, fondness.

Chapter 1 – A Kiss between Friends

Passing street lights illuminated the interior of the GMC, highlighting the impassive profile of Mary Shannon, before sliding across the dashboard to outline the chiseled jaw of Marshall Mann. The deserted streets made a lonely backdrop for their silent passage through the outer suburbs of Albuquerque. Small, tidy homes flashed by, their darkened windows silent testament to occupants snugly tucked in their beds. Mary wished she was in her bed. She was ready for this day to be done.

Marshall ventured another worried glance over at his silent partner. The trip back from Denver had been uncomfortable. Mary was withdrawn, her newly single status weighing on both of them, though for different reasons. Agent Mike Faber's unwelcome interest in Mary weighed on Marshall as well, she acknowledged. Mary couldn't bear to think about the FBI agent right now, but she had noted how stiff Marshall became whenever the man showed up. Poor guy had even had to tell her Faber had been hitting on her. A possessive Marshall would just irritate her right now. She was glad to be home.

Mary glanced up and caught him looking once again at her empty ring finger. She could sense his concern. She had found herself rubbing that bare finger several times during the day and she knew Marshall had caught her doing it at least once.

Her mouth compressed into a half scowl. The symbol of commitment, of the pledge to give oneself to another. The sparkling stone that said 'I promise to love you forever'. What did it say about herself that she couldn't meet that commitment, that she couldn't make that promise? Her finger started its absent rubbing again. She had never felt comfortable wearing Raph's ring, but now she missed the awkward weight of it; she missed the feeling she got when people saw that ring and knew she was spoken for, that she belonged to someone. That someone loved her.

Mary rested her head against the cool glass of the window, wishing the ache inside her would go away. The prospect of facing her empty home was oppressive, like a blanket of fog. She didn't want to face the loneliness that house now represented. Scene of her failure. Venturing a quick glance at Marshall, she wondered if he ever felt lonely, going home to an empty house every night.

She turned that thought over in her mind. What did Marshall do with himself when he left the office? There were classes he took of course, and he had an eclectic interest in history, art, music, sports. _Badminton, seriously did anyone over the age of ten play that?_ Still, there had to be that moment when he unlocked the door to a dark, silent home. That moment that he thought 'there should be someone here, waiting for me'. She gave a slight shake of her head to try and stop that train of thought. It was somehow painful to think of Marshall like that; alone.

Her worried partner pulled into the parking lot of the Sunshine Building and cut the engine. Mary felt his gaze on her again. She closed her eyes. She didn't want his sympathy. She didn't want his pity. Quickly opening the door, she jumped out and grabbed her bag from the back seat.

Mumbling good night as she turned to make her way to her car, she was startled to find Marshall right behind her when she reached her sad looking Probe. She was defensive as she turned around to confront him.

"Not now Marshall. I can't deal with your pity right now." The words were sharp, prickly. The walls were up and the 'do not touch' signs posted. She absolutely could not let him see how devastated she was by the failure of her engagement.

"I'm not offering pity. I'm offering friendship." His voice was low, steady. He hesitantly put his hand on her arm. "I'll listen if you want to talk. I'll talk if you want to forget. I'll bury you under an avalanche of trivia. Tell me what you need. I'll give it to you." Blue eyes watched her anxiously.

She fidgeted, unwilling to risk hurting him by lashing out as she wanted to. None of this was his fault. "I don't know what I need Marshall," she sighed. "I just want to go home right now." She tried to muster up a smile. "But thanks."

He placed a hand on her shoulder and leaning down, brushed his lips in a feather light kiss on her cheek.

"Call me if you need to." His hand tightened on her shoulder as she stared wordlessly up at him, then grunted an okay. Watching her partner stride back to the GMC, Mary brought her hand up and touched her cheek, still tingling from his light touch.

* * *

Mary Shannon stretched forward and placed her empty Shiner Bock on the coffee table. Glancing at the wall clock, she stood up and stretched her back, rolling her head in a circle trying to relieve some of her stiff muscles. She was glad the day was over, both of their witnesses tucked away, one way or another. Looking down at Marshall's relaxed form, his long limbs forming a bridge from the couch to the coffee table, she smiled. Bumping his legs with her knee, she nodded towards the door.

"I'm heading home. You going to be okay?" The day's events had been emotionally draining. Marshall was taking Lois' decision to leave WitSec as a personal failure on his part. Mary had spent the evening trying to get him to see that Lois had never been happy in WitSec and that leaving was the first proactive action she had taken in six years.

Marshall swung his legs down and stood up, following Mary down the short hallway to the front door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, glancing back over her shoulder. She took in his sad puppy dog face and turned back, placing a light hand on his arm.

"I'm all right, just disappointed, worried. I feel I've failed Lois." He chewed on his lower lip, a nervous habit that rarely made an appearance. "What if something happens to her? I'll feel responsible." Vibrant blue eyes looked down at her, begging, for what? Absolution, reassurance, forgiveness? Or just understanding maybe.

Mary bit back the impatient words that came to mind. They had already been over this, but he was in distress and as his best friend, she owed him better than harsh words. As Frank had said, people had gotten so rude. She knew she was guilty of that and Marshall deserved more from her.

"Marshall, you did everything you could. You gave her everything you could as her inspector and I think you gave her a part of yourself personally too. There was nothing else you could do. It was her decision and you are not responsible." Her light grasp on his arm tightened slightly, the cotton of his shirt smoothing under her fingers.

Mary searched her partner's face, the sadness she saw there feeling like small pinpricks in her heart. She felt an overwhelming urge to comfort him. The emotion was a new one for her, certainly in relation to Marshall at any rate. He had been incredibly supportive of her since her break-up with Raph. His numerous small gestures underlined his compassion, his friendship for her. A cup of coffee deposited on her desk in the morning. A new box of staples set unobtrusively in her middle drawer, where she kept her office supplies. A completed threat assessment for a witness visit that was moved up on the schedule, filled out in his neat block printing, placed carefully in her inbox.

He was such a good man and she didn't want him placing blame on himself for Lois' choice. If anyone deserved the blame, it was her. Mary had given up extending herself to Lois years ago. She ran her hand up his arm and pulled him into a loose embrace.

"Don't you dare blame yourself Marshall." The words were soft, low, spoken in his ear, her breath warm against his skin. His arms hesitantly came around her waist and he rested his head against hers. After several minutes Mary pulled back and peered into his face. The sadness was still in his eyes. Reaching a gentle hand up to stroke his face, she saw surprise, then pleasure, then something deeper sparking in those blue orbs.

"Marshall," she whispered, her gaze sliding around the familiar features of his face, the urge to make him happy increasing, the urge to erase that sad expression. Rising up on her toes, she placed a soft kiss on his lips, then settled back on her feet. Marshall's hands tightened around her waist as surprise widened his eyes. Mary reached up a second time and kissed him again, this time lingering longer, exploring the shape of his lips, her hands contracting around his shoulders. Marshall's reaction was swifter this time, as he kissed back, gentle, soft, slightly wary, oh so careful not to cross that line, even as he felt her lips yield.

Mary broke away, satisfied to see the sad look gone, although slightly apprehensive about the look that replaced it. She pushed back firmly against his chest, and Marshall dropped his hands from her waist. Her hand dropped down, searching for his and she squeezed tightly, then stepped back.

"See you tomorrow, okay?" Marshall nodded silently and Mary opened the door and stepped out into the cool night air.

* * *

Mary laid in bed, restlessly moving her legs, rearranging the covers, turning on her side, finally flopping on her back, grunting in frustration. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt her partner's cool lips, saw the deep ember lighting the depths of the blue pools of his eyes. She clenched her fists, then punched her pillow, trying to get comfortable.

All she had wanted was to erase the incredibly sad look from his face. It made her ache to know her best friend felt so bad. The kiss had been an impulse, but the impact she had received was unexpected. Marshall's gentle restraint in his response generated a strange feeling in her stomach. Without conscious thought, Mary had let her lips part and felt a subtle disappointment that Marshall hadn't accepted the invitation, hadn't deepened the kiss.

_What am I thinking_? She acknowledged to herself she would have freaked had Marshall followed through and turned it into an open mouthed kiss. She felt the flutters in her stomach again. Cringing as her mind replayed her lips parting, blatantly offering and Marshall, oh so noble Marshall resisting. A groan escaped her. She had felt the restraint in him. He wanted to. She knew that without a shadow of a doubt. He wanted to taste her, to feel her tongue against his.

Mary slapped the mattress in frustration. Marshall wasn't the only one who was curious. She wanted to know; to know what it would feel like to run her tongue against his teeth, to taste him. _This is insane_. Why now, after all these years, should she be looking at him differently? It was only a kiss. A kiss that was not hard but soft, not passionate but compassionate, not urgent but tender. Everything he felt for her was relayed in that kiss; sublimating his own wishes to what was best for her, putting her first as he always did.

She listened to the quiet night sounds of the house; the slow turning of the ceiling fan, the faint ticking of the clock from the living room. For the first time she missed having Raph beside her, missed hearing the sounds of his breathing. To be honest, it wasn't so much Raph she missed, as just another human being, knowing she wasn't alone. Raph had some snoring issues that were very irritating.

Marshall now, he didn't snore, or make any of those somewhat disturbing noises most men seemed to make in their sleep. At least not when he would take naps on stakeouts, or those few rare times he had spent the night flaked out on her couch and she had watched him before he woke. She had taken advantage of those opportunities to study him while he slept, his long limbs dangling over the end of her couch, his arms wrapped tightly around one of her pillows. Mary smiled as she recalled his graceless occupation of her sofa.

Her thoughts drifted to the solitary nature of Marshall's life. She wondered if he felt the absence of someone sharing his bed. If he ever woke in the middle of the night and reached out for someone who wasn't there. Mary knew her partner dated, but she frowned as she tried to recall if he had ever mentioned any woman more than once or twice. And she was fairly certain he hadn't had a girlfriend in the time they'd been partners. Good Lord, when was the last time the man had gotten laid? He wasn't a bad looking guy and his tall, slender frame had a certain appeal. If he didn't scare them off with the minutiae he spouted, Mary honestly thought he should be able to easily find someone. And once one got to know him...he was a great guy. Seriously, he should have girls fawning over him.

She yawned and drifted off to sleep as she puzzled over the big doofus' lack of a love life, her mind skittering away from the memory of his kiss and one possible reason he remained alone.

* * *

Mary strode into the office, two coffee cups in hand. She hoped Marshall wouldn't make a big deal out of the fact that she was bringing him coffee, without an ulterior motive. She simply wanted to be nice to him. She wanted to see him smile.

The edges of her own lips turned up as she thought about the gentle kiss from last week. He was no longer moping around about Lois. Mary hoped she maybe had something to do with that. She set his coffee down on his desk and looking up saw he was in the conference room with a young boy.

She cocked her head to the side, studying the two men. One tall, lanky, dark haired, confident, relaxed. The other young, blond, nervous, tense. She watched her partner lean over the table and speak earnestly to his witness, then lightly touch his arm, trying to get the hunched over youth to look at him.

Mary picked up the coffee she had just set down and walked into the conference room. She smiled at Marshall, unaware of the soft quality that had crept into her smiles of late. She immediately had the attention of both males in the room, Marshall grinning back at her, the witness staring slack jawed.

"Mary, morning," Marshall drawled, stretching out his arm to take the proffered liquid caffeine. "This is Danny Myka. Danny, this is my partner, Mary." She held out her hand and after a stunned few seconds, Danny eagerly reached out to grasp it, all appearances of misery momentarily gone.

"Do you drink coffee, Danny?" Mary asked as she tried to extricate her hand. Danny nodded and Mary left the conference room after setting her cup down.

Danny turned to Marshall, his expression one of awe and a tinge of envy. "You get to work with her every day? Dude you are so lucky."

Marshall chuckled. "Don't I know it," he said as Mary returned with a large mug for Danny.

"Young Danny here had the misfortune of witnessing a drug deal gone bad in a local park, where he had taken his girlfriend for a romantic walk under the stars. Girlfriend walked over to the concession stand to get a drink and missed the whole shootout." Marshall paused, glanced at Danny, then shifted uneasily. "Danny's family chose not to enter WitSec. So we will need to find him a foster family or a boarding school."

Mary looked assessingly at Danny. "Danny, how old are you?"

"Seventeen," he answered, looking down at his hands. Mary opened her mouth to make a comment, but was forestalled by Marshall tapping her hand and giving a slight shake of his head.

"'It's 'k," he mumbled. "My step-mom hates me. Pretty much came down to an ultimatum and Dad chose her." His shoulders hunched and Mary felt a stab of sympathy for the young man.

Danny watched the two marshals as they put their heads together, having a low voiced conversation. He noted the soft touches, the half-finished sentences, the barely perceptible shakes of the head. He noted the way Marshall gazed after her as she left the conference room. Must be nice he thought, to have someone like that. His thoughts turned to Rachel and he cringed. What must she think of him now?

Mary returned with several files and handed them to Marshall. "There's a few possibilities," she said. Taking the files from her, Marshall glanced over them quickly, then stood up.

"We'll be back in a moment. Danny. Do you need anything?" At the negative shake, Marshall lightly placed his hand on the small of Mary's back and guided her out of the conference room.

Glancing back at Danny, Marshall spoke in a low voice. "Mom died when he was ten, cancer. Dad remarried two years later. Step-mom was almost ecstatic at the prospect of getting rid of her step-son. Two children of her own that took up all her time. He may be better off with us. He needs to be placed with a family Mary. He needs to feel wanted, loved."

"Don't we all," she murmured, unaware of the sharp look her partner shot her. "Call the Meads. They just sent their youngest off to college and I know Ava is feeling the empty nest syndrome." Marshall nodded and moved over to his desk to make the call.


	2. Kismet

Chapter 2 - Kismet

Mary watched with concern as Marshall sat in the conference room with his father. She could tell by his body language he was distressed, emotional. Seth Mann was strangely engaged with his son. Mary could tell that whatever the content of their conversation, it was important. It was important to Marshall.

She had been almost euphoric at the prospect of meeting Marshall's father, of the endless teasing possibilities it presented. Once she had seen the stiffness of their relationship she had backed off, actually feeling bad for Marshall. A man approaching middle age still trying to impress his father.

A small tendril of resentment sprouted in her stomach. Her partner was a good marshal; no, he was a great marshal. He was better at his job than anyone she'd ever met within WitSec. He was a dutiful son and a good man. Maybe the best man she had ever met. He was a loyal friend to her and the best partner she could ever hope for. Seth Mann had no right to belittle Marshall.

She had told him as much, feeling oddly protective of her partner. No one got to cut down Marshall, except for her. Watching the two men, she saw Seth withdraw something from his briefcase and hand it to Marshall. Whatever it was, it made an impact on him.

* * *

Mary hesitated at Marshall's front door. She felt somewhat uneasy. Marshall was not his usual self. The parental visit had been stressful and she could sense the tension in him as he left the office. She stared at the welcome mat under her feet, cacti surrounded by desert, then brought her eyes up to the small bunch of red chilies hanging from a hook in the corner. A small circular wooden planter resided in the corner below the chilies , filled to brimming with colorful pansies. A smile tugged unwillingly at her mouth as she read the placard on the door. 'May the Force be with all who enter." She rapped sharply.

Marshall swung the door open, his tired face breaking into a smile when he saw her. He stood aside, waving her in. Mary brushed past him, pushing down the memory of standing in this hallway, arms loosely around him, cool lips gently pressed against hers. She forged ahead to his living room, tossing her keys onto the coffee table before dropping down onto his couch. She propped her legs up and eyed Marshall as he leant against the curved archway leading into the hallway, gazing at her.

Her sharp eyes slowly moved up from his bare feet, over his tattered jeans, torn t-shirt, five o'clock shadow, hair spiking every which way.

"Your dad get away okay?" He nodded once. "Have you been working out in the yard?" That was his usual way of dealing with stress and high emotion. Again that slow nod.

"Hey, doofus, come on. Talk to me." He gazed steadily at her, then pushed off from the wall and ambled over, dropping easily beside her on the couch, his long limbs pressed against hers. He leaned back against the cushions, then rolled his head around to look at her. Mary reached down and clasped his hand. Marshall permitted a slight smile, then sighed.

"He said he thought I wasn't cut out to be a marshal. That I wouldn't be tough enough." He glanced down, studied their intertwined fingers. "I was a dreamer, a philosopher. He tried to make me tough. Because the world is tough." He gave an ironic laugh. "Guess it backfired on him."

Mary winced at the pain in his voice. "Hey, you are one badass lawman. You are plenty tough enough to stand up to me."

Marshall brought her hand up and pressed a warm kiss onto the back, the contact sending little shoots of warmth through her. "He worried about me, getting hurt in the world, by the world. I think he is actually proud of me though. He acknowledged that my approach can have its merits. Coming from my father, that is huge." Marshall slowly rubbed his thumb on the back of Mary's hand, lost in thought.

"Everything matters. My father always said that. He kept a drawing I made when I was little. It was of him and me, him with his marshal's badge prominent on his chest. I had written 'to Daddy, from Marshall'. And he kept it. All these years. It had to matter to him." The slow friction of skin over skin didn't stop as he sank deeper into thought. Mary held her breath, waiting for the shoe to drop. Marshall suddenly smiled.

"We are never going to get along like Wally and the Beaver did with their dad, but he loves me. He was harsh because he wanted me to survive in a cruel world." Blue eyes came up to engage solemn green ones. "He was quite taken with you." Mary's eyebrows rose in surprise. "He thinks you're one hell of a shot."

"Well, I am," she said matter of factly.

"Nothing hotter than a sharp shooting woman." Marshall affected a serviceable leer. Mary grinned up at him.

"Also, he was impressed that you stood up for me. Said that was the hallmark of an excellent partner." Mary felt a rush of pleasure, followed by embarrassment. Did Seth tell Marshall what she had said about him?

Marshall watched her face then grinned. "Not to worry, Mary. He didn't tell me what you said, just that you vociferously defended me. Want a beer?"

She nodded and watched appreciatively as he walked into the kitchen and bent over to retrieve two bottles of beer from the fridge. Returning with the opened bottles, he flipped on the TV and settled down beside his partner, a comfortable silence settling between them.

A movie and a half later, Mary glanced regretfully at the clock on the wall and heaving a sigh, placed her hand on Marshall's thigh and pushed herself to her feet.

"Ow," he complained, making a show of rubbing his denim clad leg.

"Wuss," she tossed back as she reached for her car keys and started down the hallway. Marshall was behind her before she could place her hand on the doorknob, his light grasp on her shoulders turning her to face him.

She lifted her chin so she could look him full in the face, a delicious knot of expectation taking up residence in her stomach. Would he kiss her again?

"Thanks for listening." A simple statement, accompanied by a simple gesture, his slender fingers gently tracing the curve of her cheek.

"I'll see you in the morning, okay Sunshine?" With that he released her shoulder and his hand fell from her face, sending a rush of sharp disappointment through her. Until his hand snaked around her neck and he drew her close, bending over and grazing a whisper of a kiss on her lips. He lingered with his cheek against hers, the rough stubble of his beard sending strange sensations all the way to her toes.

"Yeah, in the morning," she managed to stammer out, as she pulled back and turned once again to open the door. Standing in the crisp night air, she took a deep breath.

* * *

Mary unlocked the door to her hotel room and entered, Marshall close on her heels. Dropping her jacket and weapon on the closest bed, she flopped down on the other bed, a groan of exhaustion escaping her.

It had been a long day in the courtroom and emotionally draining watching Danny try to hold it together under withering drilling from the defense attorney. The defense could find nothing to impugn Danny's character. He was a good kid, straight A student, who had never been in trouble. Active in the youth group at his church. Eagle Scout. So they had gone after his identification of the two gang members hard.

Mary was proud of him. He had stayed on point and never strayed from his conviction that the two young men with short cut hair, wearing charcoal gray suits, were the same as the two pony tailed thugs in Knicks jerseys and jeans that barely hung on their hips. When one of the young men was asked to remove his suit jacket and dress shirt, to prove he had a particular tattoo on his upper arm, Mary had gotten a satisfying feeling from watching him struggle to redo his tie. He obviously didn't know how to tie it.

The second young man had a visible knife scar on his cheek. The id's were solid. The defense attorneys had been harsh on Danny. Mary's blood was up. Danny did great though, always managing to hold onto his calm, although visibly struggling to do so on several occasions.

He was just a kid. Marshall had been taking extra interest in his young charge. Mary could see Danny's admiration whenever she saw them together. She felt a tingle of warmth. She liked to see Marshall playing the role of mentor. Playing the role of substitute daddy. Marshall was old enough to have a child Danny's age. He would make a good dad. He enjoyed kids. Mary felt a little puddle of goo in her belly when she watched her friend with a baby or toddler. Not that she would ever admit that to him. Best not to wander down that lane just now.

She watched lazily as her partner removed his suit jacket and hung it tidily over the chair back. Even tired as she was, she could appreciate the lean line he cut, his white dress shirt contrasting with the dark leather of his shoulder holster. God she loved a man in a shoulder holster, even if it was just Marshall.

He actually looked quite good in a suit. She didn't often get to see that. He rested one slim hip against the dresser and looked at her in mild amusement. Mary's attention was caught by his dress pants slung low on those hips and the words were out before she gave them any thought.

"God I hate you for those narrow hips. It's not fair." His eyebrow quirked up and he got that look in his eye, the one that said he was going to spout trivia.

"You know, women have hips to enable them to carry their children through pregnancy and wide hips help in the birthing process. A woman's hips play a role even before she is pregnant. Wide hips signal to a man that a woman is fertile, that she will be able to bear his children. That she won't die in childbirth and will be around to raise his children." He looked at her. She was too stunned to speak.

"Anthropologically speaking, of course." He continued, "Of course men do still notice women's hips, even if it's not to judge whether or not they will survive childbirth."

"Please tell me you haven't been looking at my hips," she said dangerously. He gave her a slow once over that had her feeling warm, and then he grinned.

"Well, I am a man last time I checked. And I do check pretty frequently." Mary felt a blush suffuse her cheeks. Why was he doing this? That brought an image she didn't need. Rolling onto her side, she propped her head up on her arm and regarded him speculatively.

"Why do guys do that? Self-gratify?" She was genuinely curious.

He shrugged as he started to undo his shirt sleeves and to roll them back up his well muscled forearms "We're guys. It's what we do. Don't tell me you've never." He cocked a challenging eyebrow at her.

Mary's attention was drawn to his arms. "I don't have much need. If I want an itch scratched, I find someone to do it for me. But guys, even when you have a girl...I just don't understand." She raised puzzled eyes up to his.

He was silent a long moment. "Sometimes there's not a woman in the picture. Sometimes, when there is a woman, she isn't in the mood. I know exactly how I like to be touched." Her eyebrows shot up. "Sometimes you can't get another person to do exactly what you want. To touch you just the right way."

"What, you can't tell her or better yet show her what you want?" She sounded incredulous. He shook his head regretfully.

"Doesn't always work."

"Well maybe you're using too big of words. Keep it simple. Take her hand and show her." The air hung heavy with unspoken thoughts, wishes, desires between the two partners. Marshall kept his gaze steady on the blonde tresses of his partner, spilling over the hand propping up her head.

"Is that what you do? Show guys how to touch you?" The amusement in his eyes had faded and something else replaced it that made her slightly uneasy. His arms were crossed and he leveled an intent look at her.

Mary swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. She retrieved her weapon from its location on the other bed and turned to place it on the nightstand.

"Yes, I do," she replied, keeping her back to him. She felt his silence like a blanket, wrapped around her.

"Good to know," he whispered in her ear, startling her. He had crept up behind her and very lightly wrapped an arm around her waist. Leaning in he sketched a feather light kiss on her cheek, before moving down to breathe a moister, damper kiss on her neck.

"I'm going to check on Danny. See you tomorrow, okay?" Mary nodded silently, her knees suddenly wobbly as she listened to the soft snick of the door as it closed behind him.


	3. Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice

Chapter 3 – Kiss me Once, Kiss me Twice

Mary picked sadly at her supper, her appetite non-existent. Mia was the closest she had come to having a girlfriend in...well, ever. She had purposefully held herself apart from other girls at school. She didn't want anyone knowing how she lived. She had simply never developed the skill set to befriend another woman. And now her friend was gone.

Staring forlornly at her salad, she felt her aloneness as she never had before. She heard all the creaks and little noises in the house now that Jinx was gone and Brandi may as well be, what with taking off for parts unknown and spending nights at Peter's. The silence mocked her, taunting her with the knowledge that this is what she had wanted. Her house back, her life back. And she felt dangerously close to tears now. Because her life was silence, emptiness, aloneness. _Except for_ _Marshall._ She tried to ignore that little voice in her head.

The knock on the door startled her from her reverie. After peering through the peephole, Mary opened the door and cocked her head questioningly at Marshall, a whisper of...something, bouncing through her stomach.

"I come bearing chocolate," he said, diffidently offering the chocolate chess pie to her. Mary breathed in the aroma and swung the door open.

"Thought you might like some company," he said, watching her closely, concern and sympathy etched on his face.

Mary stood aside and let him in after carefully relieving him of the chocolate chess. Trailing after his lanky form to the kitchen, she rummaged in a drawer for a knife and cut generous slices for both of them. Marshall looked pointedly at her salad.

"No dessert until you eat your supper, young lady." Mary stuck out her tongue at him and licked her lips in anticipation of her first bite. She noticed the pained look that crossed his face before he turned away, walking to the sink and filling two glasses with water while taking a deep calming breath. Shrugging, she turned her attention back to the masterpiece in front of her.

Mary bit into the pie and closed her eyes in ecstasy. "Oh my god, this is good," she mumbled, opening her eyes to see Marshall gaping at her with a strangled expression. "What?" It was defensive. Why was he staring at her like that? He quickly cleared his face and mildly observed he liked to see a girl with a good appetite.

Mary narrowed her eyes and inspected the statement for any sign of snark and decided he was being sincere. Leaning one slim hip against the island, he watched her before venturing into the turbulent waters of the Sea of Mary.

"How are you doing? And you know what I mean," he said, forestalling her trite and automatic response of 'I'm fine.'

"You've lost a witness, you've lost a friend." He reached over to cover her hand with his. "Tell me what you need."

Mary contemplated his question as she felt the warmth of his palm caressing her hand. What did she need? Someone who wouldn't leave, who could alleviate the aching loneliness she felt. Not that he could help with that. Or could he? She tried to study him through downcast lashes. There was something changing between them and she was torn between fleeing in terror and running towards it in eagerness.

"For tonight, just your company," she finally offered.

"That I can offer."

A bottle of wine, two pieces of pie and one crappy movie later, Marshall stood to go. Mary had been uncharacteristically quiet, not even commenting on the more awful parts of the movie they were sitting through. Mary followed him lethargically as he moved towards the door. Compressing his lips, then tossing caution to the wind, he gently pulled her into his embrace.

"Let yourself grieve, Mary, it's okay." He felt her body tremble.

"It's not fair," she mumbled into his shirt, "she was only 42. She was my friend." Her arms snaked around his waist. "My only friend besides you. Everyone always leaves." The last was so low, she didn't think Marshall heard her.

She felt his lips brush the top of her head and his arms tighten around her. His breath was warm against her ear as he murmured to her. The reassuring beat of his heart was faint under her ear, resting against his chest.

"I won't leave." Mary felt herself melting inside at the earnestness, the utter conviction she heard in his voice. The deep rumble that had become synonymous with safety, with comfort, with affection, with complete trust, with friendship. And she believed him.

Marshall pulled back and lifted her chin with one finger. "I won't leave," he repeated, his eyes very blue as they looked at her intently.

"I know," she whispered. After a long moment, he nodded, then dropped a light kiss, more an exhale of breath on her lips, and released her.

"Tomorrow then, Sunshine?" She gave a half-hearted smile and nodded, closing the door behind him. Raising her fingers to her lips, she wondered just when he had started kissing her as a normal part of their parting routine. And just when had she started allowing it? And just when had she started looking forward to it? She had actually caught herself a few times lifting her face for his kiss, in expectation, in anticipation.

The kisses had been kept very light, very brief, very safe after that first one they had shared. Mary slowly shuffled back into the kitchen, eying the remains of her salad distastefully. Yes, very safe. She wanted him to keep on kissing her; she was craving the contact now. She didn't want to do anything that would bring a halt to those sweet shows of affection. No one had ever shown her pure affection before. But on the other hand...

On the other hand, she was beginning to feel...urges. The urge to feel the pressure of his mouth on hers, to feel him nudge her to open to him, to taste him, to feel him against her. These urges could lead nowhere good. She had to protect her heart. She had to protect Marshall's heart. She simply didn't know how to resist the comfort he offered her in his arms, the affection he showed her in his kisses, the something more than friendship she saw in his eyes.

* * *

Marshall was stretched out on Mary's couch, the weariness on his face reflected on her own. He had stopped by with Indian takeout and because he needed to talk.

"I felt so bad for him, Mary. He's been keeping this all bottled up for months. The poor kid slept with his girlfriend for the first time earlier the same night he witnessed the drug deal. First time for both of them. And all he can think about is what she must think of him, that he just abandoned her." Marshall's voice was hoarse.

"Danny said he hurt her, made her cry. He didn't know there would be blood." Mary watched his face as he struggled to relay the conversation, glad that she hadn't been the one to deal with Danny. She also thought Danny was probably right about Rachel; she _would_ think he abandoned her.

Marshall was glad his young witness trusted him enough to talk to him, though as he told Mary, "I had a hard time keeping an emotional distance, refraining from sharing some of my own experiences with him, experiences that may have helped." He fell silent for several minutes.

"Can I ask you something?" Mary's alarm meter ticked up at his low voiced inquiry. Marshall never asked for permission, he just asked when he wanted to know something about her. She was sitting on the floor by the couch and she reached up to take his hand, drawing in a deep breath. May as well get this over with.

"Did it hurt your first time?" Mary closed her eyes. Even seeing the question coming from a mile away, it was difficult. She squeezed his hand.

"I was sixteen years old, had no idea what I was doing and was scared out of my mind. Yes, it hurt." She snorted. "First guy who ever said he loved me. He lied."

The words hung between them. "Danny wanted to know why something that felt so good for_ him_ would be so painful for her. And I couldn't answer that. I felt the same way with Katinka. I hurt her out of eagerness and ignorance and I will never forget that. I learned not to rush. I learned to listen. I learned to read body language. But these aren't things I can teach Danny." Mary listened to him silently, feeling for the young, sensitive Marshall as well as for young Danny.

Marshall started to absently rub his thumb over the soft skin of her hand. "He was crying, Mary. He felt so bad he hurt this girl he really cared about. He's a teenage boy whose life is ruled by his hormones. He started a physical relationship before he was emotionally ready to handle it. And he told that girl he loved her."

Mary peered up at him, his mind obviously somewhere else. Back in his own teenage years she guessed. This was all hitting very close to home. She was curious about his own first time, but decided that conversation could wait for another day.

Marshall sat up and tugged on Mary's hand, pulling her up to sit next to him. "I'm sorry he hurt you, hurt your heart, that first boy." He looked into her face, bringing a long finger up to trace down the line of her jaw.

Mary kept her face carefully blank and Marshall stilled his body. She could see the dawning fear on his face. She didn't want to have this conversation, ever.

"Talk to me, Mary." His voice was very steady, measured. The effort to keep it that way was palpable. Sighing, she thought she better tell him, as he was obviously imagining even worse things than the reality. Rubbing palms suddenly damp with sweat on her jeans, she kept her gaze fastened on her feet.

A gentle nudge brought an unwilling quick glance at his face. Returning her eyes to her bare feet, she wondered idly what she did with her toe ring. She hadn't seen it in awhile.

"It was my boyfriend. I don't know, I suppose today it might be classified as date rape." His hand tightened painfully on hers, but he remained silent. "We were messing around and I thought I wanted to, but then I got scared and said no, I wanted to wait. And he...he said he couldn't stop. I wasn't strong enough to push him off me. It all happened so quick and he hurt me enough I cried. You want to know the really incredible thing? He was utterly shocked that it wasn't good for me."

Marshall's harsh breathing sounded like an engine in the stillness of the room. His tight grip on her hand was almost painful. Mary closed her eyes. She had never told anyone about that night. Gradually the pressure on her hand eased up. Warily opening her eyes, she allowed Marshall to draw her chin up and cup her face with both hands. His sorrowful eyes searched hers and he bent down to kiss her.

"I'm so sorry, Mary. The first time should be a gift freely given to someone, not taken or coerced from you." He kissed her again, lips gentle, full of comfort not passion. "Tell me how to take the hurt away." Pleading in his voice. Again the firm press of his mouth to hers. These were not like the feather light brushes he had taken to bestowing on her when they parted. They were more full-bodied, more tangible, more imbued with emotion.

"How can I help heal you? You have to tell me how." The kisses continued, no urgency, just overwhelming desire to comfort, so strong she could taste it on him.

Mary had never really kissed a man without any tongue action involved, at least not since she was like twelve. She was finding it incredibly pleasurable, these kisses that were free of urgency, free of intent towards something else. The pressure of his mouth against hers was warm and comforting and affectionate. Incredibly affectionate. She looked into the cobalt blue of his eyes and knew he cared for her more than any other person on the planet. He genuinely cared.

"Do you want me to find him?" He murmured between kisses, moving to her cover her cheek with the warm trail of his mouth. Mary chuckled under his moving lips, enjoying the slight abrasiveness of his stubble. The image of Marshall having five minutes with that guy was an enjoyable one. She shook her head.

"No. It was a long time ago and I got over it." Marshall stared at her, a challenge in his expression that said 'go ahead, lie to me again'. "It's all right Marshall. You can't change the past." She pulled at her lip, thinking.

Marshall gently drew her hand down, stopping her from worrying at her lip. "But you can make it hurt less. I can help, if you'll let me." Her eyes unwillingly met his.

"I know, Marshall," she responded in a whisper, "maybe one day, but not today." She paused as she thought about Danny and Rachel.

"Tell Danny to write a letter to Rachel and we can get it to her. I don't want the poor thing wondering if he left her because he was a schmuck, or thinking she was so awful he just couldn't face her again. And I can guarantee she is thinking one of those things."


	4. Kissing Cousins

Chapter 4 –Kissing Cousins

Brandi pulled up short as she came down the hallway and saw Marshall standing by the kitchen door, Mary closer to him than she usually was with, well, anyone, smiling up at him. Marshall crooked a finger through a belt loop and tugged, pulling her in so they were touching. Well, this was very interesting. She flattened herself against the wall and watched with unconcealed interest as Mary lifted her head and Marshall stroked her jaw with one long finger, then grasped her chin in a light hold and bent down to kiss her.

Not a 'give it to me now Big Mama' kiss, but sweet, innocent. His lips lingered and Mary didn't push him away. Brandi nearly barked in disbelief when she saw Mary's arms snake up around his neck. She kissed him back, the same gentle kiss full of affection.

Brandi had a good view of Marshall's face and she saw his feelings written plain as day. He grinned down at Mary, whispered something in her ear, then turned and opened the door, walking out into the sultry air of dusk.

Mary stood a moment by the door, grinning like a fool, then tried to shake it off, turning to see Brandi standing right behind her.

"So, you and Marshall huh? Spill."

Mary jumped in surprise. "Jeez, Squish. What are you sneaking up behind me for?" She hadn't even realized Brandi was home.

"What was that? With you and Marshall?" Brandi was almost gleeful, Mary thought, casting a baleful eye on her. Brandi's avid interest was not something she wished to deal with.

"It was nothing. Just a kiss. I've been out of town for a week. We haven't seen each other. He's my best friend." Mary took in Brandi's knowing gaze with displeasure. It was true. She'd been with Judy all week and her last nerve was just about frazzled. She had missed Marshall more that she thought possible. When she got back into the office she had to restrain herself from throwing her arms around him.

"What! It was nothing. Don't make this into something," Mary huffed as Brandi hooked her arm through her sister's and shook her head.

"I saw the man's face, Mary, after he kissed you, and you kissed back I might add. It wasn't nothing. He's in love with you."

Mary spluttered and tried to get a coherent, intelligent sentence out, but Brandi beat her to it.

"You know, he was a total wreck after you got shot. Haunted the hospital, tried to keep me and Mom from falling apart. The man cried for you. Did you know that? He was there more than Raph was. He spent nights there, holding your hand. I came in a couple times early, before you came out of the coma, and he was sleeping in the chair while holding onto you for dear life. He loves you, Mary."

Mary slumped down into a chair and leaned her elbows on the island, holding her head.

"I know he loves me, Brandi. I don't know if he's _in_ love with me though. I love him too, but I don't think I'm _in_ love with him." Her voice was weary, defeated. This new information about Marshall was unsettling and disturbing the carefully set up explanation she was developing for their evolving relationship. Friends could kiss, she knew. It didn't have to mean anything deeper than an expression of friendship. She had a nagging feeling, though, that friends shouldn't look forward to it the way she did. That friends shouldn't feel the pressure of lips pressed against one's own for hours afterwards, like she did. That friends shouldn't dream about those kisses turning into a Frenchfest, like she did.

"Would it be such a terrible thing if he did love you? He's your best friend, plus he's kinda hot. What's the down side?" Mary looked up at Brandi's earnest face with sad eyes.

_What if he leaves?_

* * *

The drive back after handing Walter over to his new inspector was largely silent. Mary was grateful for the space Marshall was giving her. She was conflicted by her own feelings towards her father that had been stirred up and reluctant to examine the reasons she had never tried to find him.

Maybe Marshall was right. Maybe she should try to locate him. She had the resources available to her, although she had an uncomfortable feeling that Rabbi Garfinkel would be far more effective at locating someone than the federal government.

They stopped at a small diner for supper, Mary so engrossed in her own thoughts she didn't notice Marshall had ordered for her until a plate with burger and fries was placed in front of her. She raised confused eyes to him and he smiled.

"I know my witnesses. I know my partner. I think you'll find everything to your liking." Reaching across the laminate surface of the table, he took her hand and gave it a brief squeeze. Mary removed the bun top and inspected the burger: mustard, tomato, pickles. He did know her. That was another whole issue she needed to spend some time thinking about, but not right now.

It was late when they arrived back into Albuquerque. Traffic was light and Marshall pulled up in front of his partner's house shortly after midnight. Cutting the engine and stepping out, he pulled Mary's go bag from the back of the GMC. He walked with her to the front door, waiting while she unlocked it, then placed the bag in the entryway.

Mary watched him, noted the slight hesitation. "I'm fine Marshall. Just have some things to think about." Again the hesitation before he spanned her waist with one large hand and drew her towards him. Giving her ample opportunity to pull away, more so than if he had put his arms around her for a hug. Mary didn't pull away.

They looked at each other under the pale yellow spill of light from the entryway. Both feeling the attraction, feeling the pull, feeling the want. Mary was aware of the stillness of the neighborhood, as if every home was waiting; waiting to see what she would do. She watched his Adams apple bob, recognizing that he felt nervous.

Placing her hand flat against the smooth green cotton of his shirt, she could faintly feel the rhythm of his heart under her palm. An unexpected desire to lay her head on his shoulder and allow her body to sink into him hit her. She bit her lip, knew she should pull back. When Marshall's other hand came to rest on her hip, casually caging her in his light grasp, Mary rose up on her toes and pressed trembling lips to his.

This was okay, she told herself. They'd been kissing good night for a quite awhile now. It was just part of the routine. It was a brief touch, like you'd kiss your brother or your cousin. Marshall's hands tightened slightly around her waist, pulling her in just a little closer. And instead of the release he usually employed after one of their light pecks, he kissed back.

Soft, but firm; light pressure encouraging openness to him; lips complying and parting. Dark head lifting slightly; loss of contact bringing sharp disappointment, a noise of distress from her throat. Lazy smile followed by heavenly contact once more; pressure delightful. Hands curling around his shoulders. Gentle, feather light sweeping of his tongue over her lips. Sharp intake of breath. Eyes dilating to deep forest green; hearts hammering. Regret flashing across his face as he disengaged and stepped back, reluctantly dropping his hands from her waist.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Only a barely noticeable tremor in his voice. Mary nodded wordlessly and watched him amble back to his GMC, open the door and give her a wave before getting inside. She stood in the open doorway long after the sound of the truck's engine had faded.

_That is not how you kiss your brother. What are we doing?_

* * *

Mary sat on top of a picnic table, watching with pleasure as the two tall figures played in front of her. The light breeze was a welcome relief after the day's heat. Marshall was instructing Danny on the finer points of shuttlecock delivery and it was all Mary could do to restrain herself from laughing out loud. He had set up a backyard net in the neighborhood park and had commenced with the lessons several weeks ago.

Mary gave an appreciative eye to the two lithe men swinging their rackets and hitting the hell out of the poor little birdie. Mary idly wished that Marshall had worn shorts like Danny had. She'd rather like to see his legs. As the returns became increasingly aggressive, Mary's mouth turned down in a slight frown. Marshall had come to the net earlier in the match and waved Danny over. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he had spoken earnestly in a low voice to the young man. Mary couldn't hear what he said, but Danny had nodded and then thrown a contemplative glance her way. After that, the game ratcheted up.

As the grunts became louder and the shuttlecock flew faster, it dawned on Mary that this was a therapeutic exercise in working off frustration. Her eyes narrowed at Marshall as he slammed the birdie over the net, earning the point. Just exactly how frustrated was he?

Danny had quickly picked up the basics and was quite good. Mary could see that it was far more than just a childhood game. Maybe she would even be willing to go see a competitive match one day.

It warmed Mary's heart to see how Danny looked up to Marshall. He was getting along well with the Meads, but would be off to college in a few weeks and his foster family would no longer have responsibility for him. Marshall was keeping a close eye on his young witness, helping him through this new transition.

Her head popped up when she heard Marshall crow in triumph before dropping to the ground in exhaustion. Danny walked over and clasped the upstretched hand in congratulations, then bent over, hands on knees, and attempted to get his breathing back to normal. Mary watched her two sweaty men in amusement, then realized she was going to have to ride in the car with both of their ripe bodies.

Pulling towels out of her partner's, _oh dear Lord help me_, Star Trek duffel bag, Mary tossed them over to the two men collapsed flat out on the slightly brown grass of the park. Reaching back into the bag, she withdrew two bottles of water and walked over, waited for the outstretched arms, and shoved a bottle in each.

Returning to her perch on the picnic table, Mary rustled in the bag again, searching for another bottle of water and stilled as her fingers closed around a very familiar shape. Slowly opening the zippered top of the duffel a little wider, she stared at her hand in the bag, fingers closed around the square packet of a condom. _Huh_. Well, good to be prepared, she supposed. Her eyes turned towards Marshall, still laying on the ground. _But who are you needing to be prepared for?_ Her brain screamed the question at her.

Their relationship was fluid and while her mind skittered away from direct contemplation of their evolving friendship, she readily acknowledged that there was little reason for Marshall to think he would be needing that condom with her anytime soon. Marshall didn't do one night stands. He just didn't. He was too caught up in the emotional aspects of a relationship; he demanded an emotional involvement before a physical involvement. So...it wasn't for her, it wasn't for a chance encounter. So that left...

Mary shut her eyes as an unexpected wave of pain hit her. Really, would he? Would he be seeing someone else at the same time he was oh so gently pressing onward with their relationship? Moving it forward by nudges and bumps. No, she couldn't believe that. Maybe it was old, had been in the bag for years? No, Marshall would fastidiously clean his bag out after every use.

She opened her eyes to find the subject of her contemplation standing beside her with an odd expression on his face. He reached over and firmly grasped her wrist, turning her hand. She felt his intent gaze boring into her and she let her fist open, the crinkly little packet sitting in her palm. Caught redhanded.

She tried to work up a measure of indignation, of snark, to come up with a clever retort, make some comment about his love life; but she had nothing. Looking into eyes that were strangely blank, Mary felt a cold tendril of fear in her stomach.

"We'll talk later," he said in a low pitched voice, before turning to Danny and motioning towards the GMC.

"Great game, Danny. Time to get you back home now. Are we on for next Saturday?"

Marshall dropped Danny off in front of the Meads small ranch house, then headed back not towards Mary's house, but out of the city. He pulled over when he reached the foothills of the Sandia Mountains and got out, coming around to offer Mary a hand as she warily jumped down. An old fashioned, gentlemanly gesture that Mary secretly liked.

He took her hand and led her down one of the paths, the deepening gloaming casting a magical light on the surrounding mountains. Mary was reluctant to say anything, completely unsure of where Marshall's head was. He stopped in a clearing and pulling a rolled up microfleece from the backpack she hadn't realized he was carrying, spread it on the ground and gestured for her to sit down.

"Marshall," she began, but he hushed her, dropping down beside her and tilting his head up to study the faint stars that were beginning to appear. He pulled a bottle of water from his pack, casually took a swig and offered it to Mary. She took it blindly and took a drink, wishing for something a little stronger.

Faint noises impinged on Mary's awareness; the rustle of leaves, crickets chirping, some unidentified insect buzzing around her head. She sat with trepidation in her heart, but somehow unable to do anything but wait for Marshall.

"You found the condom in my bag." It was a flat statement, directed to the vast open space around them. He eased back on his elbows, continuing to study the sky. Mary waited. There wasn't really a point in responding, They both knew she had seen it.

"I do date, Mary. On occasion, I even have sex. I'm not stupid and I don't take risks." His voice was measured, the words chosen with care, the rebuke subtle but there nonetheless.

"I know." It was so soft, the faint wind barely carried the words to his ears. He turned his head to look at her in the faint light from the remnants of the setting sun.

"You are worried about the timing of this. We are moving," he hesitated, groping for the right words, "somewhere new with our relationship. Our friendship is evolving. You know me, Mary. Not as well as I know you, but still. You know we are not at that point with what we have between us that a condom would be required. You know I don't engage in one night stands. You're wondering about the meaning of that little piece of latex."

Mary sat stock still, momentarily hating him because he could crawl inside her head like that. She felt he was expecting something of her and she groped blindly to identify what it could be. Marshall waited, his infinite patience a burr in her backside. He wasn't going to say anything further until she figured it out. Her stomach rumbled, bringing a smile to his lips and a frown of chagrin to hers.

"I wondered if you were seeing someone and hadn't told me." The words stuck in her craw like peanut butter. "I felt jealous of that possibility, hurt. I thought...I thought..." Her hands made an impatient gesture as she tried to get the words out. Marshall covered her hands with his and her whole body stilled.

"What did you think?" He was gentle in tone and voice.

"Don't you know already? Seeing as how you live in my head?" She was sharper than she meant to be, fear and discomfort making her lash out. He was lightly rubbing his thumbs over the backs of her hands. Mary sighed and tried again.

"I thought we were heading somewhere with this, whatever it is between us, and..." Her voice trailed off as a new thought occurred to her and she looked up, tried to discern his eyes in the darkness. "Marshall, was that condom even _yours?_"

She didn't see so much as feel his smile. "That's my girl, bringing your brain power to bear. No, it wasn't. It's Danny's. We've had some sex talks recently. He needs someone to confide in. He has accepted he will never see Rachel again. He's a confused young man, with a new girlfriend and a lot of guilt. He wanted to have some just in case, but didn't want to keep them at the Meads. So I told him to toss 'em in my bag until he got things figured out. Guess the box must have come open."

Mary exhaled in relief, feeling almost faint. He wasn't seeing somebody else. She looked down at him, stretched out on the ground. He drew her down beside him, giving a gentle but firm tug on her arm.

"Look at that," he whispered, pointing up at the rapidly filling sky, as new stars blinked into view. Mary rested her head on his shoulder and listened to him talk about the constellations, gradually focusing just on the rumble of his voice and not his words. His arm was around her, her head pillowed on his chest, he was spouting trivia about far away places and the space-time continuum. She was happy.

"I'm sorry, Marshall," she murmured as she felt his lips brush over her forehead. "I shouldn't have doubted you."

"No, you shouldn't. You can trust me completely, Mary. I would sooner cut off a limb than hurt you. The fact that you felt jealous gives me hope though." He kissed her, then pulled back, his fingers lightly exploring her face trying to discern her expression through his touch.

Mary allowed the feather light strokes, recognizing he needed to know what she was feeling, the inky darkness preventing them from seeing each other. And what was she feeling? A curl of tenderness towards the man beside her was unfolding in her heart. Her hand slipped around his neck and she pulled his head down, their lips meeting in unhurried exploration.

Light brushes evolved into firmer kisses. Mary was amazed at how Marshall managed to explore her mouth while keeping from deepening the kisses. He nudged her lips apart and Mary felt the controlled restraint in him. One hand slid up her torso, coming to rest against her breast. His touch was so ethereal she couldn't tell if he was actually touching her or if he was hovering, the warmth of his palm palpable through her clothes. His breath exhaled over her as he fit his mouth to hers, then quickly flicked his tongue over her lips before pulling back regretfully.

Rolling onto his back, his arm around Mary's shoulder, he pointed out the Big Dipper. Mary jabbed him in the ribs as she informed him that was one constellation she could actually locate herself. She felt his head turn towards her in the darkness and then felt his lips at her ear.

"I can help you locate all kinds of things," he whispered, drawing her hand over to place flat on his chest. She lay in his arms on the hard ground, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her hand, thinking she may have just found pure happiness.


	5. Kiss Me Mary

Chapter 5 – Kiss Me Mary

Mary watched Marshall walking with Danny across the quad at UNM, engaged in animated conversation. Danny looked relaxed, happy, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder. Marshall lifted a hand in greeting when he caught sight of Mary, her arms crossed and one hip cocked out, shades on, breeze lifting her long hair. Danny waved, then turned to Marshall, making a comment that brought a grin to his inspector's face.

Danny headed headed off across campus as Marshall made his way over to Mary. Her head tilted to the side, she drank him in, an awkward grace to his long strides. From cowboy boots to jean clad legs, to longhorn belt buckle, to long sleeved cotton shirt, to his mobile smiling face, she took a long cool drink. And found she was still thirsty.

"Hey there, doofus, how's Danny?" Marshall smiled back, an appreciative gleam in his eye.

"Danny's doing great. Really loving school so far, gets along well with his roommate, likes his classes."

Mary waited a moment, then prodded. "And just what did he say to you to make you grin like an idiot?" Students swirled around them, ignoring the two old people standing in the middle of the quad. A few male glances were thrown Mary's way, but something about the tall man standing so close to her prevented any lingering looks.

Marshall's dancing eyes slowly roamed up and down her body before he answered with a drawl. "Oh, he was just observing that you are the hottest WitSec Inspector he's ever met."

Mary raised any eyebrow. "Really? You're not just being sweet? And what did you say?"

"Ditto." He chuckled and nodded towards the parking lot. As they started to walk towards their cars, Mary glanced over at him.

"And what about his property you've been carrying around for him?" Marshall hesitated, not wanting to break any confidences.

"Still in my gym bag. He has decided to wait and see how things go before even bringing the subject up with this new girl."

"Already told him how things were going to be did she?" Mary commented with a knowing smile. Marshall stared at her, then shrugged.

"Something like that. It's better if they wait, make sure it's what they both want. These things shouldn't be rushed."

They stopped at Marshall's GMC and he opened the door. "You got a witness visit today?"

Mary nodded. "I'll see you back at the office. And Marshall," she paused, and he turned back to face her, "you're really good with him. He looks up to you. I'm glad he feels he can talk to you. It'd be nice to have someone help guide you through the teenage years." Her voice was wistful and Marshall reached for her, pulling her into his arms. The hug was brief, the kiss on her forehead even more so, but Mary felt better, just because it was Marshall.

* * *

Mary walked out of the restaurant, pausing for Marshall to catch up. His attention had been caught, by god knows what inside, and she waited patiently. He joined her and they started strolling down the street in Old Town, Marshall casually reaching for her hand and linking their fingers. It was a warm night, but there was a light breeze and it felt pleasant to be outside, walking under the faint stars.

This was beginning to feel like a date, but Mary didn't care. She had been stuck in Chicago with a petulant teenager and her uncaring mother over the weekend. Mary was just happy to be back in Albuquerque and with Marshall. He'd taken her to a nice restaurant, they'd had good conversation, good food, good wine. And now they were wandering the streets of Old Town, not paying attention to anything but each other.

Marshall suddenly stopped outside an art gallery and drew Mary over. He peered at a painting displayed in the window, a southwestern scene with adobe houses and cacti under a blue sky and blazing sun.

"Seriously, Marshall, all you have to do is look out your window to see that," Mary complained, completely unable to understand his fascination with art. He started the slow rubbing of his thumb over her hand and it slowly dawned on Mary for the first time, he was using it as a calming technique. _Why that little jackbutt! How dare he try to influence my behavior?_

She pulled her hand free and glared at him while he looked back at her in confusion, the picture of innocence. Shrugging, he started to move on, holding his hand out again for her to take. After a moment of hesitation, she did, the need for human contact outweighing her irritation. _No, not human contact, Marshall contact._

Marshall drove back to his house. Asking her if she wanted to come in, he started towards his front door, but Mary shook her head, moving off in the direction of her street parked car.

"Not tonight. I need to get home." Marshall gave her an assessing look, but acquiesced. Mary unlocked the door and was startled to find Marshall standing right behind her, barely allowing her space to turn around. He gently took the keys out of her hand and placed them on the roof of the car, simultaneously sliding an arm around her waist.

"You don't have another man waiting for you there do you," he whispered in her ear, the timbre of his voice and moist heat of his breath doing things to her stomach. She tried to conjure up a laugh, but could only manage to stare at the heat in his eyes. The realization hit her. _This is it. This is where it changes or not._

Marshall traced her jaw with his finger, lazily drifting down the smooth slope of her neck. That same finger caressed her earlobe, gently twirling the plain gold stud in her ear, setting up that same stroking motion he used on her hand. _And just what else might he stroke like that?_

He was waiting; waiting for her to decide. Pull back, keep the status quo or move forward, take a risk. Mary stared at him, unaware of the sheer terror reflected on her face. Marshall gently ran his thumb over her lips.

"It's okay. I'm in no rush." Murmured soft in her ear. She blinked, contrition rushing up to tremble with apologetic words on her lips. Marshall shook his head. "No, don't. We take this at your pace. I'll wait for you, Sunshine, for as long as it takes."

His thumb traced once more over her parted lips then he bent down to deposit one of his gentle, chaste kisses on her mouth. He'd been making these deposits for awhile now, the balance growing week by week, month by month. Earning interest. And now he was asking to make a withdrawal, a small one, not to clean out the account. And she was telling him the bank was closed. To go away and try again tomorrow. No, she wouldn't hurt him by stamping his request 'insufficient funds'.

Her eyes drifted shut and she slid a shaky hand around his neck, pulling his head down and firmly pressing her mouth to his. His body stilled, then his right arm tightened as the left hand came up to cup the back of her head, holding her in place as the pressure of his kisses increased. Lips moving in lazy pathways from the corner of her mouth over her cheek, down her jaw, along the slope of her neck. Nipping at the spot right where neck and shoulder met. Meandering back up her stretch of neck to nibble at her earlobe, then begin the journey back to the goal. Lips parting; light brush of tongue tasting the sweet hint of chocolate that remained there. Eyes sparking with deep sapphire blue embers asking a question; blonde head nodding affirmative.

Mary was not prepared for the jolt she felt, that went straight down to her toes, when Marshall nudged her mouth open further, somewhat hesitantly slipped his tongue in through her teeth, then swept around her mouth. She gave an audible gasp, clutching handfuls of his crisp cotton shirt, and holding on for dear life.

He had asked for admittance; she opened the door. He requested a viewing; she took him on a guided tour. He explored; she was discovered. He whispered, with his hoarse terms of endearment, of his wish to plant his flag that said 'I was here, I claim this for my own'; her pliant body gave promise the territory would be yielded.

He was gentle, the controlled power she felt in his taut body arousing. Over teeth, around her cheeks, along her tongue; he tasted, he felt, he investigated. She could tell he was holding back, holding back considerably. Flash of clarity that almost broke her heart; he didn't want to scare her off. He wanted her to understand that this kiss, on this night, wasn't going to go any further. This was just the next step on their long, convoluted journey of discovery together.

Mary broke off breathless, grateful for Marshall's arm around her, as her legs felt decidedly unreliable. He held her tight, he would never let her fall.

* * *

Mary's sense of restlessness had led to her rash statement. _Maybe I just need to do some cowboy._ As soon as she said it, she regretted the words that were hurtful to Marshall. She was taken aback however, when he stood up and walked over, getting in her face, laying his heart on the line.

The words swirled through Mary Shannon's head, her partner's words. The words she didn't want to hear. _But maybe messy_ _i__s what you need_. The words she didn't want to acknowledge. _Maybe instead of just anyone you should be looking for_ _someone_. The words she didn't want to accept. _Someone who challenges you.._Marshall..._who calls you on your_ _BS_...Marshall.._.and gets in your face and makes you think_...Marshall.

Damn him. He was going to force her to deal with this before she was ready. This...whatever it was between them.

She had been thinking too. She was getting an itch that needed scratching. It had been months. Marshall would be willing to scratch that itch, but only under his terms. He would demand a declaration from her; he would want the words. Mary wasn't sure she could give him the words. The words scared her. The words would flay her heart open, beating for him to see. The words would make her vulnerable. The words would give him power. The power to hurt. _But Marshall would_ _never hurt me_. The words could bring her greater happiness than she had ever known.

Her work enforced staycation had given her ample opportunity to think. The house was totally hers now. Brandi had moved out last week. Marshall had come over to help. Mary was surprised by how much she had missed seeing him on a daily basis. It had only been four days, not that she was keeping track.

She hadn't minded watching him work up a good sweat either, his damp t-shirt rippling over rather well defined chest muscles. Brandi had caught her staring at one point and laughed knowingly at her. Mary realized with a slight shock, that she had never seen his bare legs, only seen his arms a couple times before. Her mind began to idly wonder what he looked like; all of him.

The day had passed quickly and Mary had asked her weary partner if he wanted to stay, get a pizza. He shook his head tiredly and said he needed to get home. She shrugged, but sensed something was off. At the door when she thanked him for helping, he had smiled and then...then he opened the door and walked out. In stunned silence she realized it was the first time in months that he hadn't kissed her when he left. She felt bereft.

That lack of a kiss ate at her all evening. It followed her into her dreams.

_There was an ocean view, a cool breeze, a sinking sun giving an orange glow to the setting. Teasing of the cabana boy, wine, food, a long, red dress. And a companion, someone in the bathroom. She waited in anticipation and out came...Faber. __**Huh? **__Well she had an itch and he would do, she guessed. They kissed, but it was all wrong. These were not sweet kisses full of affection. These were kisses with one goal only. She wanted that other, the tenderness, the friendship, the affection. She wanted to know she was loved._

Mary woke with a start. Tears pricked behind her eyes and she threw back the covers roughly and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Stalking out to the kitchen propelled by irritation, uncertainty and a vague sense of unease, she stood still with her hands propped against the island. Her breath came in harsh rasps. Trying to draw a deep breath, Mary steadied herself and poured out a glass of red wine. She took it out to the backyard and slid down into one of the deck chairs. Watching silver moonlight track across the calm water on the pool, she heaved a sigh and turned her thoughts to Marshall, to their friendship. She resolutely kept her thoughts away from Faber, from his stolen kiss on his last visit, from his incessant phone calls and texts.

Focusing her mind where it didn't want to go, she considered the evolution of her relationship with Marshall. Cicadas were singing gently in the still night air and in the distance she could hear a dog barking, followed by a slamming door, then silence. _Marshall. _A wary partnership in the beginning. The first of a series of road trip conversations took place when she met him back in Jersey on the FTF operation. She sipped her wine, lazily watching a leaf that had fallen in the pool floating gently by the ladder. Those enclosed talks that offered no means of escape. The talks that were so frequently initiated by Marshall. A tool to discover more about her.

Many road trip convos later had come the admission that the only person that really understood her was Marshall. And shortly after that the painful acknowledgment that her engagement to Raph had ended. Mary swirled the wine in her glass, watching the moonlight catch the rose colored hue. There had been the startling realization that he really did occupy a room in her head. He knew her better than anybody else on the face of the planet. He knew what she was thinking the majority of the time. How had that happened? Slowly, gradually, the wariness had been replaced by respect, admiration, awe...friendship.

And the friendship, what of that? It had evolved also, to something...more. From enjoying the occasional after work drink, to hanging out with Marshall on a day off. From calling to see if she wanted him to pick up coffee for her on his way to work, to showing up unannounced on her front doorstep with Thai food in hand. From rearranging their desks with his input, to rearranging their desks without his input, knowing he would never object to the choices she made in furniture arrangement. From keeping him at an emotional arms length, to embracing him close to her heart. _Oh God._ _What is this I'm feeling?_

Her heart started to race a little as scenes from their years together played out in her mind. How many times had he asked her 'tell me what you need' ? How many times had he called her his girl? A term of endearment Mary had never called him on. The silent support that was always there. The endless paperwork he had completed for her. _Marshall coming into that basement to clasp her terrified body to him. Marshall trailing after her as she fell apart upon her return to work, following closely but not touching her. Marshall holding her as she sobbed out on the balcony. Marshall toasting her engagement, his eyes red with unshed tears. _Her breath hitched_. Marshall getting shot. _Oh God. She'd completely fallen apart in the hospital, she'd been so scared he was going to die.

She shuddered and stood up, quickly stripped off her clothes and eased herself into the pool, the cool water tamping down the fevered thoughts rushing through her mind. She smoothly stroked through the water, lithely turning in a somersault when she reached the end and pushed off to swim another length of the pool. Over and over she swam from end to end until breathlessness forced her to stop. Her mind had been held in limbo as she swam, but upon reaching the ladder to step out, she admitted it to herself.

Mary pulled herself up, the water streaming down her hair, the moonlight illuminating the pale flesh of her toned body. Realizing she didn't have a towel, she shrugged and turned to find her pajamas. The gentle lapping of the water in the pool thundered in her ears as she saw a shadow standing by the door into the house. She stood stock still, aware that she was completely vulnerable, the moonlight outlining her, no weapon close to hand. She watched the shadow. It didn't move. As her eyes adjusted, something about the shape of that shadow tugged at her.

Slowly moving towards her deck chair, she kept a wary eye on the dark shape. As she reached the goal of her clothes, the shadow moved, stepping slowly out into the moonlight. Mary clutched her top to her chest, relief warring with anger as she recognized Marshall's lanky form.

"Jesus H Christ, Marshall! Are you trying to scare the hell out of me?"


	6. Kiss and Tell

Chapter 6 – Kiss and Tell

"_Jesus H Christ, Marshall! Are you trying to scare the hell out of me?"_

Marshall was working his mouth, but no sound was coming out. He was staring at her. Gaping. Mary was becoming self conscious under his intense gaze, but some stubborn sense of pride kept her from covering herself.

"You're beautiful," he finally said, voice husky with awe, admiration, desire. He glanced away, turning slightly to give her some privacy. "I'm sorry I scared you. I just needed to talk to you. You didn't answer your cell. I couldn't sleep. Guess you couldn't either."

Mary hurriedly pulled her pjs back on and waited for him to face her again. When he turned back they looked at each other for a long moment, then Mary gestured to the deck chairs. They dropped into them, Mary feeling the heat in her cheeks. Plenty of men had seen her naked. This should not embarrass her. But this was Marshall. What he thought was actually important to her. And he thought she was beautiful. She'd heard that a lot too. Only this time the speaker of those words was not angling to get into her pants. Not tonight at least.

Marshall was looking down at his hands, then focused his gaze on the pool. "I needed to know what you were thinking. About us. About me. I can't stay in this limbo, Mary. I don't want to push and I'm willing to wait, but I need to know there's something I'm waiting for."

She was silent, the breeze rustled leaves amplified in the dark night. Finally standing up, the scared little girl who just wanted to be loved looked at the man who had become everything to her and walked over, nudging him aside and sitting down beside him on the deck chair. She stretched out next to him, his long legs extending far past hers. She laid her wet head on his shoulder and placed her hand over his heart.

"I had a dream," she began softly, "it's why I couldn't sleep. I dreamt I was on vacation and I wasn't alone. I was with Faber." She felt the tension in Marshall's body. "When he kissed me, it was wrong. Even in my dream, I knew it was wrong. I wanted it to be you. That's when I woke up." She shifted, knowing her soft curves were pressing into him, feeling a sense of gratification at the low grunt that escaped him. "That's why I came out here. I had to think, I had to decide. About us. About the changing relationship we've had the last how many months now? I've been trying to tell myself it's all right for friends to be as close as we are, to kiss like we do. But we're not just friends anymore are we?"

She looked up into his face, the moonlight providing enough illumination she could see the raw want in his eyes.

"No," he said roughly, "we aren't. We can be lovers whenever you say the word." His voice wavered and Mary felt the tremble through his body. His arms came around her and he buried his face in her neck. "Please Mary, say the word. Words. I want you to say the words."

Mary felt a tug in her heart at the pain in his voice. He had laid himself out bare to her with the pleading in his request. _Please say you_ _love me_. Her hands slid up to cup his face. She had come to a decision tonight before she emerged from the pool. Taking a deep breath, she took the plunge, feathering her fingers over the sharp planes of his face. She wanted to erase that pain and this time she knew she could do it.

"Marshall, I can give you the words, I can give you my heart, I can give you myself. I can give you my love. I love you." She was slowly caressing his face and she felt his lips spread in a grin. He pulled her to him and gave her a sound kiss.

"Have you any idea how long I've waited to hear you say that?" The low timbre of his voice resonated from his chest against her. "I love you, Mary Shannon, like I've never loved anyone in my life. I love you." His mouth roamed her face, his lips pressed to her cheek. "_Ich lieb dich." _To her forehead._ "Ti amo." _To her eyelids._ "Eu te amo." _To her nose._ "Je t'aime." _To her chin_. "S'agapo." _To herjawline._ "Te queiro." _To her lips. She thought at first he was mumbling. But at the last murmured words she recognized with a jolt he was saying 'I love you' in every language he knew.

"I'm just covering all my bases," he said in answer to her unasked question. Her damp head was resting on his shoulder again. He shifted slightly to position her better against him, her full breasts flattening against his chest as she wrapped her arms around his waist . They subsided into silence, their breathing gradually coming into sync. Mary was lazily tracking her leaf in the pool again as it swirled around with each light breeze.

Her chest rose each time he inhaled. He felt very solid under her torso. She shifted again to relieve some of the pressure on her hip and draped herself over his chest, the low strangled whoosh of air he emitted bringing a smile to her face. Mary concentrated on the sensations of his body under hers; the heavy denim of his jeans against the light cotton of her sleep pants, the soft cotton of his shirt against the flimsy fabric of her top, the press of metal from his belt buckle into her belly, the firmness of his hands clasped around her waist, the solidness of his chest under her hand.

"Danny also said I was 'one lucky dude'," he said after several minutes of quiet, the night sounds of the neighborhood a pleasing backdrop to their personal revelations.

Mary lifted her head and gave him a confused look.

"When you saw him on campus last week. You asked what he had said to me. I told you he thought you were hot, which he does, but he also said I was one lucky dude."

"Which you are," she replied smugly.

"Why is it Danny could see what was between us and you couldn't?" The quiet question contained a hint of reproach.

Mary was silent a moment, considering all the wasted time, time they could have been happy together. A siren sounded off in the distance, then faded. Even the crickets had quieted down.

"Because Danny wasn't so scared he felt like puking at times. Scared of screwing up the most meaningful relationship of his life. Scared of hurting you. Scared ultimately of losing you, losing your friendship." Her hands tangled in his shirt. "Loving gives power to another person. I've never handed control to another person in my life. It's not that I couldn't see it, Marshall. It's that I couldn't acknowledge it. I kept trying to explain it away as friendship."

"We'll take this slow, Mary," he said, stroking her back, "I don't want to rush into anything. There is so much more to being together as a couple than the sex. I want to make sure we have everything in place, that we understand each other, before moving to a physical relationship." Mary was mirroring his long strokes down her back with her hand on his chest, running her palm from his clavicle down to his waist. Her fingers stilled on his belt.

"But I have an itch," she whispered in his ear, the heat in her breath and her words triggering an instant response in his body. She moved to straddle him and waggled her eyebrows as she felt him under her. "And so do you, I believe." He felt very nice and her hips rocked gently against him. His body once again responded immediately and Mary grinned. Oh yes, very nice indeed.

Marshall sat up somewhat awkwardly and grasped her by the hips, holding her still. "I can apply some calamine lotion, but I can not scratch your itch, not just yet." One hand moved up to cup her breast through the thin material of her sleep shirt. His fingers sank into her and Mary felt the sound of the groan that involuntarily left his throat travel through her all the way to her core. He drew a ragged breath.

"We've been on a journey of discovery, Mary, that started seven years ago. Discovery is fun, but it takes time. Exploring, retreating to discuss the days finds, staking out the next days search. Anticipating. What will the next day bring? What treasures are waiting out there? It allows us to learn about each other. It's part of the fun. It's part of becoming lovers, taking it in stages, peeling back the layers, learning what's underneath." She was staring at him, wondering if he could possibly be serious. He wanted to wait?

"For instance," he said conversationally as he tightened his hold around her breast and gave it a firm squeeze, " do you prefer this or," his hand fell open and a light caress with his open palm followed, his fingers dappling around the heavy curvature, stroking over her nipple, "this?" He was watching her face closely and he smiled as her hands tightened on his shoulders and her mouth hung open.

"See now I know and next time, I will start with that touch." _Next time._ Mary's stomach clenched in little waves of anticipation.

"Maybe you've got something there, doofus," she granted, ending on a sharp intake of breath as his large hand closed over her and just rested, feeling her weight, protective almost; possessive.

"There's a lot of pleasure to be had from anticipation. And we'll get there, Mary, no doubt. I certainly want to love you in every way possible. I want to claim you as my own. But I know you, Sunshine. I will provide you with every opportunity to pull back, because I know you need that space. I want you to present yourself fully open to me, completely sure, wanting to give me pleasure as much as wanting to take pleasure from me." It was the gentlest of reproofs. Saying once again, 'trust me'.

She looked into his eyes. Could she possibly let Marshall drive this? Turn over control to him? This was a test, she realized. A test of her trust. Green eyes searched deep blues ones, found the reassurance she needed there and she let go, releasing herself to love and be loved.

Sliding off him, she stretched along his side once again. Her hand once more on his chest, she slowly undid the top two buttons of his shirt and pulling it open, planted a warm kiss over his heart. The light sprinkling of dark hair tickled her lips and she realized with a small shock that she had never seen his bare chest. Yes, maybe he was right. There was a lot to discover and it may be good to stretch that discovery out. Uncover a little bit more each day. And when the payoff came...she shivered slightly. His arms tightened around her and he rubbed at the goosebumps.

"I trust you, Marshall, to protect my heart. I'll turn this over to you." She felt his lips in her hair and settled down against him with a sigh. Morning would be here soon. She smiled as her eyes started to feel heavy with sleep. And the first thing she would see when she opened her eyes would be Marshall. Every day for the rest of her life.

The End

**So Mary was finally able to say those three little words. She fought it all the way, but it was impossible to resist Marshall! Thanks for reading and for your kind words.**


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